


Sweet Traditions

by darksquirrel



Series: Change of Atmosphere [10]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:32:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksquirrel/pseuds/darksquirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick unintentionally started the Welcome-Back-Donut tradition in the early days of his partnership with Hank.  It grew from there.   Set in the COA universe both before and after the first part of Change of Atmosphere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Traditions

_**Notes:**_ For _**Lillz**_ who wanted: _I couldn't help but be intrigued by the 'welcome back doughnut' tradition and was rather hoping u might expand upon that. Pretty please?_

I’m incredibly slow but here it is. Set in the COA universe both before and after the first part of Change of Atmosphere.

 

**_WARNINGS:_** Donuts. Lots and lots of donuts.

 

() () ()

 

The first time it was Hank out of action with a tonsillectomy.

Nick brought a chocolate milkshake to the hospital, which he knew his brand new partner of nineteen days preferred over vanilla or strawberry. Oreo was his favorite, but Nick figured that would be too chunky for his post-surgery throat. When he knocked on the door Hank waved him in, eyes lighting up at the sight of the cup.

“Milkshake?”

Hank made grabby hands at the shake.

“Are you sure? I could go back for a smoothie or—okay then milkshake it is,” he said as Hank stretched forward and _snatched_ the cup from his hand.

Nick settled into the visitor’s chair, setting his shopping bag by his feet and pulling out a long plastic spoon to go with the shake, although it was probably melted enough by now that Hank wouldn’t need it. “How ya feeling?”

Hank pulled a face.

“Not supposed to talk, huh.”

Hank nodded glumly.

“That’s a shame. Sergeant Wu says you’re way too old to have tonsillitis.” Which was why they had kept him in the hospital overnight, keeping a close eye on his reaction to the anesthesia.

Hank nodded again, definite agreement with that one.

“I brought reading material.” He pulled out this morning’s paper. Several times in the past few weeks, Hank had come to work with newspaper ink on his fingers so he’d felt safe with that choice. He’d also included a couple back issues of his favorite car magazine and one of Juliette’s veterinarian journals. They were actually more interesting than they looked. The animals were cute.

Hank gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, immediately flipping the newspaper open to scan the headlines.

Figuring he’d lost his attention for a few minutes, Nick pulled his own breakfast out of the bag. He had ten minutes before he needed to leave for work. “Renard has me going through cold case files while you’re out. New eyes on old cases, he says.” Breaking the seal on the bag, he extracted the donut carefully, keeping the frosting pristine.

Hank made a grunting noise he took as interest. “I’m just glad it’s not more filing. I’ve filed enough to last a lifetime.” He took a bite of donut, sighing at the very deliciousness of it. One benefit of getting up extra early to visit his partner in the hospital, the donuts were fresh out of the fryer. “Have they said how long it would be before you get to come back to work?”

He remembered Hank couldn’t speak just as he took another big bite and looked up at his partner. Hank was staring at the donut enviously, milkshake forgotten.

Nick chewed and swallowed hurriedly. “Sorry, I would have brought you one but the doctor said no solids.”

Hank heaved a heavy sigh.

“It’s only a few days,” Nick said consolingly. “I’ll bring you a frozen yogurt when I come back to pick you up this afternoon.”

Hank looked a little happier at that.

A week later, Hank came back to work, still a little hoarse and having to be careful of what he ate. Nick made sure there was a fresh Bavarian crème on his desk. It was the softest donut he could find.

 

() () ()

 

Nick was out for four days with the plague.

“It’s the flu,” Juliette said, popping a thermometer into his mouth. “I’ll make you some chicken soup and you’ll be fine.”

“Plague,” Nick moaned around the thermometer. Talking made him cough.

When he was _finally_ deemed work safe again, he happily escaped the house, ignoring Juliette’s strict instructions to call if he felt a relapse coming on. Taking a moment to appreciate the noise and bustle of the squad room, he missed Hank approaching until a white paper bag skidded across his desk.

“Morning,” Hank said, collapsing into his chair nursing a gigantic cup of coffee.

“Morning,” Nick said cheerfully. He opened up the bag to find a slightly squashed maple bar. “What’s this for?”

“Just glad you’re not dead from the plague, partner.”

 

() () ()

 

Of all of Hank’s divorces it was the last one that hit him the hardest. Nick didn’t know all the details but he knew she had cheated on him with one of the guys in his Narcotics unit and that it had led to Hank requesting a transfer to Homicide.

If their wedding anniversary fell on a weekday, Hank always took the day off. Always.

Nick pretended to be deeply engrossed in his computer when Hank arrived the morning of the day after. He looked haggard and a little worse for wear, but cleaned up, put together, and on time. He paused when he saw the pink bakery box sitting on his desk then smiled and walked over to flip open the lid.

He gave a low whistle. “Still full.”

“You have no idea how hard it’s been to keep the vultures out of that,” Nick said, still not looking at him.

Hank chuckled. “I bet.” Settling into his chair, he took his time picking one out and slid the box across the crack where their desks were joined.

Nick chose a maple bacon bar then pushed the box to the corner of his desk, a clear sign it was up for grabs. He didn’t ask how Hank was feeling or if he was okay, instead he casually slid the Post-It note Renard had given him this morning over to Hank’s side of the desk.

Hank perked up. “New case?”

“Yep.”

He stood, reaching for the slip of paper. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go solve some crime.”

Nick grabbed his coat and started to follow then veered back for one more donut. For the road.

 

() () ()

 

Nick’s first official day back at work after his inaugural Grimm case wrapped up was full of bittersweet validation.

He wasn’t crazy. He’d solved the crime. He’d stopped the killer. He’d saved the little girl.

He _wasn’t_ crazy.

His desk was crowded with congratulators stopping by and Renard said a commendation was in the works.

But….

He hadn’t saved Robin Howell, Esola Mendoza, or Terrie Clark. He’d endangered a civilian. He’d really pissed off his partner.

Hank was still angry with him for not keeping him in the loop and for saying he was going straight home when he was already planning on going to Monroe’s.

Still it was damn good to be back at his desk. Even the load of pink message slips waiting for him could not diminish his good spirits.

“Morning, partner,” Hank said. A white paper bag landed on Nick’s desk.

Nick peeked inside. Jelly filled glazed. “Am I forgiven then?”

Hank settled back in his chair, crossing his hands over his stomach. “I’m considering it.”

“Would a steak dinner and a lengthy explanation help?”

Hank considered the offer. “Might.”

Nick upped the ante. “I’ll make tiramisu.”

Hank grinned. “Now that’s a deal I can get behind.”

Nick returned the smile and took a bite of jelly-filled goodness. Hank hadn’t completely forgiven him but he would. It was only a matter of time.

 

The End


End file.
